


Who we want to be

by whichstiel



Series: Season 13 Codas [21]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s13e23 Let the Good Times Roll, Finale thoughts, M/M, Spn 13x23, episode coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 17:58:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14699370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichstiel/pseuds/whichstiel
Summary: A series of vignettes dealing with the fallout of the season 13 finale.





	Who we want to be

**I. Charlie**

“You knew me, didn’t you?” Charlie asked. “The other me, I mean.”

Rowena glanced up from from her dish of creme brûlée, eyebrow arched. Charlie leaned on the table with both elbows, just as coltish as Rowena remembered, her smile wide and open. Rowena found it supremely off-putting. “Aye,” she said, cracking the back of her spoon against the caramelized sugar. “A few years back. You could say she was an acquaintance of mine.”

“What was she like?”

Rowena made a show of savoring her dessert while she considered the woman sitting across from her. She hadn’t known the other Charlie for long, and even then she’d been so consumed with need for the book that the other players in that terrible drama had been considerably minor concerns. “Earnest,” she finally said, and after a long pause, “A good woman. A computer whiz. An able fighter, though I’m told that could not save you in the end.”

Charlie swirled her fork through her own dessert, leaving chocolate trails hashed across the white plate. “I looked her up. Did you know the internet’s not so different from what we lost when Michael came to Earth? Same weak security. I learned a lot.”

“Oh?” Rowena asked mildly, and found she was curious. She’d belittled Charlie upon meeting her, and her death had followed swiftly. Rowena had only realized what a brilliant mind the world had lost when she’d gotten the codex translation. Now she had a chance to forge a new tie. Something stronger, better, more honest. If there was anything she’d learned over the years, it was that strong allies were vital to survival. And though Rowena didn’t like to admit it, some small pocket of her rather liked her as more than a potential ally. This Charlie was sharper, more cynical, and less judgmental of her powers. “Our Charlie was a hunter. Did you share that….career goal?”

Charlie shrugged. “Nah. She had the same story as me, mostly. She dropped off the board for a while. Spent some time in Michigan before she died. Dean told me she hunted.” She made a face. “I didn’t know about monsters until the angels came and pushed us all together - monsters and humans. A single target for annihilation.”

“Yes, it is a wonder how similarities do bridge us in the most dire of times.” Rowena laid down her spoon and folded her hands on the cloth-clad table. “And what did you take away from it?”

Charlie wrinkled her nose. “That I’m not her. I can’t just…fit in like a missing puzzle piece in a picture.”

“Well,” Rowena said with something uncomfortably like fondness rising up in her, “I suppose you’ll have to make your own design, then.” She patted Charlie’s hand maternally. “Now. How about a wee taste of that chocolate cake?”

 

**II. Bobby**

Bobby leaned back in his chair and tipped the bottle of beer against his lips. He drank deeply, willing himself to fall away into the sensation of the cool liquor. “Should just stay off the internet,” he muttered and nudged the laptop shell closed.

Karen had met the same fate in this world. Learning that had hurt a whole hell of a lot more than he’d expected it to, considering that he’d survived mostly unscathed from an actual angel apocalypse. Knowing it had happened to another version of him cut him open, though. Bobby took that new bundle of grief and dropped it like a stone into his well of sorrowful memories. What was another, after all?

He ran a considering hand over his jaw. Here, he’d had a car lot as well. In his world it had been an island of order in the chaos of the apocalypse. But it had also been an anchor. Without it, he felt lighter, somehow. All he needed was a truck and a storage box full of weapons, the road rolling under his wheels. It was enticing and more than that, it felt freeing. Once my people are settled, he thought. Then I’ll go.

 

**III. Maggie**

Mary suppressed a groan when she entered the kitchen to freshen up her cup of coffee. Maggie sat at the table, her head pillowed in her arms, hair falling like a curtain hiding her features. Her shoulders shook and tiny squeaks escaped with every other breath. “Oh, Maggie,” Mary said, sliding onto the bench beside her and laying a comforting palm on her shoulder. “What’s on your mind?”

Maggie sat up as though prodded with a knife, wiping her eyes along her sleeves as she went. She looked dreadful, her red tear-streaked face showed Mary that she’d been crying for a while. Maggie sniffed. “I’m sorry, Mary. I’ll get out of your way.”

Mary met her eye. “It’s okay. It’s been a difficult transition for you. I know when I came back I was—”

This was met with a burbly laugh. “Oh,” Maggie said, scrubbing at one cheek. “It’s not that. I mean, it was weird at first. But I’m good with that whole resurrection…thing. I just— Today I found her.”

“Her?”

Maggie’s eyes widened with significance and when Mary still looked confused she said, “Me. I found me. The other me who lives— Who was born here.”

“Oh.” Mary cocked her head and waited for more. So many of the survivors had been former hunters or the family of hunters, banding together near Bobby’s lot for their own collective safety at first, and later to build an army. Many of them who had indulged in the search had discovered the untimely demise of their alternate self, or their families. Maggie had been too new to the camp to talk much to Mary about her old life.

“She’s in grad school.” Maggie relayed this with an awkward pride, her eyes lighting up. “I found her instagram. She’s got two cats. Takes pictures of desserts and flowers. And it’s just…amazing.” Her lip began to tremble again. “But I am so fucking jealous. I’m…I’m angry! Like, what if that could’ve been me?”

“Oh Maggie.” Mary settled her elbows on the table and considered her words carefully. Finally, she said. “When I was brought back it took me a long time to find my footing. In some ways I think I can empathize with you all. Finding yourselves in a new world? Starting over from almost nothing? It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do and I had my boys here. For the longest time I felt…alone. Shiftless. And then I found purpose. A mission.”

“You think I need a mission?”

Mary shook her head. “I think you need a goal. A lot of us hunted and maybe that’s our way forward.” She leaned closer. “But if your goals are cats and desserts, you chase that goal. You chase it and hold onto it with both hands when you get it, okay?”

“Be the crazy cat lady you want to see in the world?” Maggie attempted a watery smile.

“Eat cake every day.”

“Grow flowers.”

“Sleep in.”

“Sounds amazing,” Maggie said. “But I don’t—”

Mary gripped her hand hard. “I swore I would help you all, Maggie. That doesn’t just end with hunting or surviving angels. Saving lives is so much more than keeping someone from dying, okay? If your goal is cats and cake, I’ll do everything I can to help. Everything. Okay?”

Maggie gulped and nodded, something like happiness stealing over her expression for the first time in weeks. “Thanks, Mary.”

 

**IV. Sam**

There was a way Castiel walked when he didn’t want to be questioned, with his fists clenched and eyes straight forward. Sam ached to see it now. He cleared his throat and asked, “Where are you going this time?”

Castiel paused mid stride on his way towards the bunker door and glanced at Sam. “Louisiana.” Sam wrinkled his forehead questioningly and Castiel rolled his eyes and said, “I may have a lead on the demon that did the spellwork on Lucifer’s latest vessel. That demon is long since dead, but he spent several months living on the banks of the Mississippi. Perhaps I can learn more there. He must have acquired that lore from somewhere.”

“Or someone.” Sam pushed his chair back. “Okay. Let me get my bag.” He was unsurprised when Castiel shook his head firmly.

“No, Sam. You’re needed here.” Castiel looked around the bunker. It was close to three in the morning and therefore quiet, save for Sam. But Castiel’s gaze alighted pointedly on the stacks of books on the tables, the jackets slung over chair backs. “You’ve got a small army of hunters under you now. They look to you.” Castiel attempted a wan smile. “I’ll be fine.”

“Cas.”

“I’ll call you if I need help,” Castiel said firmly. “But our efforts are better spent pursuing multiple leads before Michael tires of walking the world and decides he’d like to try reshaping it.”

Sam dropped his head. Castiel was, of course, right. The truth burned at his throat. They were torn in so many ways: fighting monsters, acclimating the newcomers to their world, and tracking Michael to the best of their abilities. “Just…be careful okay? When we get him back—” Castiel looked away, his shoulders hunching. “And we will get him back, Cas.”

Castiel exhaled slowly, and when he turned back to Sam his eyes were hard. “I know.”

“When we get him back,” Sam continued gently, “he’ll need you here, man. So just…be careful, okay?”

“Of course, Sam. I’ll be fine.”

Sam closed his laptop, offering his full attention to Castiel. “He’ll need you here,” he said again slowly, wondering how much he could say. Should say. “So you call me before…” He shook his head. It was so easy to fall into the empty spaces Dean left behind. He’d almost said, before you do anything stupid, like he was reading lines from a script. “Call me if you need me. Please. I can’t lose you too.”

Castiel softened at this and a sad smile slipped across his features before settling into his customary determined frown. “I will.”

 

**V. Dean**

The waves rolled onto the shore, each one perfectly topped with froth before they crashed blue-green onto the pale, fine sand. Dean sat under the umbrella, sun striking his legs below the knee, and squinted out at the ocean. 

A seagull screeched in the distance, lonely and plaintive. Somewhere behind him, Dean knew as though in a dream, was an open bar overlooking the water staffed by a team of impossibly hot women. He closed his lips on the straw of his drink and took another pull of sweet strawberry daiquiri. The straw rattled in his glass. Empty.

Without thought, the glass was refilled. Whether through magic or an exceedingly discreet server, he couldn’t quite untangle. It hurt too much to think about the reality behind the setting. Dean set the drink in the sand, swiveling the base to twist into the sand bank and hold it steady. He leaned forward and squinted against the sun-bright water.

Castiel stood in the waves.

He wore his trench coat and suit, a speck of tan and black against the water. “Cas?” Dean called. “That you?” Like a mirage, the vision faded.

Disappointed, Dean settled back in his chair, flapping his loud floral shirt around his waist in irritation. “I’m disappointed in you, Michael,” he said, head pounding from his sudden moment of clarity. “Letting the Matrix glitch like that.”

To his left, a disembodied voice snorted. “It doesn’t matter,” Michael said, at once in Dean’s ear and all around him. “You’ll never best me. You’re only human, Dean. And I have the power of the cosmos running through me.”

“Bite me,” Dean said almost pleasantly, reaching down to grab his drink again. As he shifted, the golden cords binding him to Michael’s vision moved with him. “I can wait you out, you smug son of a bitch.”

“Such backtalk from my most holy sword?” The laughter receded until Dean could hear nothing but waves and the distant cries of gulls again.

Dean stared at the water until his eyes burned. Castiel did not appear again. “If I am a weapon,” Dean said quietly once he felt that Michael might be occupied. “Then I will cut you down.” He shook his head and took another long sip. “If I am a weapon…”

As he drank, memory slipped away from him until once again, he relaxed on the beach. Vacation at last. Dean sat alone under his red striped umbrella, golden cords dripping down into the dreamlike sand. Before him, the ocean rolled onto the shore and shaped the sand anew with every pass.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this season, my loves! <3


End file.
